


darling, you're my daydream

by orphan_account



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Bad Dreams, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, not really much hurt... just comfort. and comforters! as in blankets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate has a nightmare, but wakes up to America, and things aren't so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	darling, you're my daydream

**Author's Note:**

> written as a response to a tumblr prompt from @lotus-in-space. Feel free to prompt me, or just come visit on tumblr @hoevarr. 
> 
> (title vaguely like a tswift lyric, i know, i know, but thats more coincidence than anything)

America wasn’t the most tender person.

She didn’t kiss children they saved on the head before sending them off to their mama with a pat on the back; she wasn’t in the habit of group hugs, or sappy pep talks, or giving uplifting compliments with a small but sincere smile. She punched people in the face, leaving their noses bloody and broken and gushing; she kicked goddamn holes in dimensions; she had a mouth like a drunken sailor, especially when she was pissed, which was often. 

No, America wasn’t the most tender person. She was hardened, rough around the edges, scrappy and brutal. But she did what needed to be done. She had a lot of love in her heart, and, despite how it may seem, she cared deeply about her friends. Her violent means were to protect what she cared about- she didn’t care about many, but when she really did love someone, she loved them deeply and fiercely and with everything she had.

Few knew this better than Kate, her fellow hero, partner in crime and in the romantic sense of the word. 

Kate was currently in a fitful sleep beside America. America watched her, stealing glances from the top of her book- maybe it was creepy, to watch her, but America slept less than her anyway, and the words of her novel were swimming in front of her eyes, and her girlfriend’s form was as captivating as ever. 

Kate took shuddery, uneven breaths, her shoulders rising and falling in a hypnotizing fashion. Her white tank top was sheer; America could see where the black bra she hadn’t taken off was cutting into the flesh of her shoulder.

Her hair fanned out in tendrils, falling around her shoulders and spreading in stark contrast on the white pillowcase. During sleep was the only time her hair wasn’t perfect, and America smiled to herself, a small secret smile at the small secret sight just for her, something only she saw.

Kate’s breathing, though, was worrying her. She was flinching in her sleep, making barely audible huffing and whimpering noises. America closed her book, sitting up a little straighter.

Her internal argument over whether or not to wake Kate was interrupted, by Kate nonetheless. She inhaled, a shaky, shuddering sound, and her eyes flew open. She abruptly sat up, chest heaving. Her top was askew, twisted around her body like a vine, and her hair clung, sticky, to her exposed skin. A sheen of sweat covered her, and she glowed in the low light of the early dawn. 

America leaned over, concerned, as Kate caught her breath. Kate glanced over, her eyes blown wide with worry and nervous energy- definitely awake, then.

“Everything ok?” America nudged, trying to make her voice soft as possible, a welcome mat for feelings: “My emotional door is open. Step right on in.”

Kate started to nod, but aborted halfway through, and instead shook her head. A pale, perfectly-manicured hand raised to her face, touching her neck, ghosting along her jawline- a sign of insecurity or nerves, America knew, but right now doubling as the motion to de-plaster her dark locks from her sweaty skin. 

“It- s’ stupid,” She grumbled, moving on to straighten her tanktop. 

As she twisted and shifted, adjusting, America furrowed her brow. Kate’s eyes were still blown wide, her breath still coming in short, shaky spurts. 

“Princess,” She pressed on gently. “You can tell me.”

Kate sighed, but stilled, folding her hands in her lap. Her words came out in a rush, like a waterfall, like she was breaking the dam of her composed façade. 

“I had this dream where you were all dead, you all died and I couldn’t save you, you were screaming, the whole team and Clint and it was all my fault and I made a mistake and-”

She sucked in, stuttering. America scooted closer, until her thigh was pressed against Kate’s, skin against skin. She put her arm around Kate, lightly running her hand over the plane of her back. 

“Shh. I know, chica. It was just a bad dream, okay?” Kate nodded, catching her bottom lip with her teeth. “Just a dream, okay? None of it was real,” America continued, pulling Kate against her side.

“I know,” Kate said, exhaling. She looked over at America, smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

America couldn’t help but smile. “Always, Princess. Do you want some breakfast? I can make pancakes, your favorite.”   
  


Kate cocked her head, considering, then pushed the covers away slightly. “Well, I guess it is morning, and we are up, and pancakes sound delicious, so-” she looked worried suddenly. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked sheepishly. America chuckled, shaking her head. 

“Oh, good,” Kate giggled. America rolled her eyes affectionately. “Not all of us are sleepyheads, pillow princess,” She jibed. 

Kate laughed, now crawling off the foot of the bed. Her shorts had ridden up, giving America quite the view of her toned legs as she stretched, hands above her head.

“You know what that means?” America paused in pushing back the covers herself, shaking her head with a frown.

“Does it… Not mean liking to sleep?” She shrugged. Kate was smirking like the cat who had eaten the canary. 

“Not quite,” she ventured. “It’s, like, slang. For a girl who is lazy in bed.” 

America felt a grin spreading across her face. “But you are lazy in the bed. The comment still stands.” She was teasing, now, watching Kate blush. 

“Not- not like that,” she grumbled, face pink. America chuckled. “Yeah, I know.” She stood up, walking over to the door towards the kitchen. 

“You’re just cute when you blush.” Kate blushed more, looking down at the floor. 

“Maybe after we eat, I can make you blush some more,” She said suggestively, turning and walking out the door before Kate could reply. 

Kate huffed, scurrying after her. “I’ll show you how lazy I am- well, after I’m not so hungry,” she said, laughing as she followed her girlfriend down the hall. 

Yeah, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day after all- a daydream come true, maybe, instead of a nightmare.    
Yeah, she thought, sharing a smile with America as she got out a pan- it was going to be a nice day.


End file.
